


So We Can Fight Another Season

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Series: an unquiet mind [21]
Category: From Paris with Love (2010)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Accidental hero, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Angst, Arguing, Case Fic, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Diary/Journal, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Established Relationship, Family, Fear, Fix-It, Friendship, Healing, Heart-to-Heart, Hiding in Plain Sight, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Learning to be Loved, M/M, Mutation, Oaths & Vows, POV Multiple, Paranoia, Partners to Lovers, Prophetic Visions, Reconciliation, Resentment, Romance, Self-Worth Issues, Strained Relationships, Trope Bingo Round 14, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, h/c_bingo Round 10, hostages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22957741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: In which Reece solves a case without intending to and Wax is head over heels.Reece, on the other hand, has some fears to face.
Relationships: James Reece/Charlie Wax
Series: an unquiet mind [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1400899
Collections: Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 10, Trope Bingo: Round Fourteen





	So We Can Fight Another Season

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Trope Bingo](https://immolate-the-silence.dreamwidth.org/47728.html) for the prompt Accidental Hero. 
> 
> Also written for [h/c_bingo February Amnesty](https://immolate-the-silence.dreamwidth.org/50457.html) for the prompts: WILD CARD (abandonment issues), learning to be loved, hostages and mutation.  
> I’m taking the last two prompts in an emotional context rather than a physical one. Hostages, for example, would be holding someone or yourself emotionally hostage as in manipulating one’s emotions, repressing them, etc. Mutation reflects the alteration in a relationship, partnership, one’s way of thinking, etc. 
> 
> Back story: This follows [All These Punishments](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20818400), [Lead Us to Destructive Behavior](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22846888) and [Staying Our Hand From Madness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22863583). If desired, you can skip over the 3rd part [Beckoning Unreasonable Fury](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22847629), since it’s merely an AU of Lead Us to Destructive Behavior.
> 
>  _Recounting this mini-series within my main series:_ Reece has a simple, harmless thought to ask for his prophetic visions to go away. The universe, fate, what have you gives him what he wants, but also sticks him in a time loop where he has to watch Wax die in hundreds of gruesome ways. Eventually, the time loop stops but Reece starts having visions again, except that in this alternate reality psychics have long since been hunted down by the very agency he works for. Wax finds out that his partner is not the same partner he’s known and, while initially thrown, decides to stand by him and go against everything he’s always believed. He finds it hard to live with this choice, however, until he receives a vision and experiences firsthand what Reece has to tolerate and work through, filling him with guilt but also a newfound appreciation for his gift. 
> 
> **In this 5th part,** Reece’s visions have returned and seem determined to emphasize his hero status. Of course, he and Wax will still have to work through the rockiness of their newfound partnership. 
> 
> **Miniseries [part 5]:** All these punishments lead us to destructive behavior, beckoning unreasonable fury, staying our hand from madness so we can fight another season and poison the source
> 
>  **Series:** an unquiet mind
> 
>  **Soundtrack:** Lyrics are from Grimes’ ‘So Heavy I Fell Through the Earth’

_~Weigh me down, oh, love_

_So heavy, I fell through the earth_

‘ _Cause I fucking love_

_So heavy, I fell through the earth_

_Cause I’m full of love from you~_

* * *

Reece grabbed Wax’s jacket to steady himself and that was… it, all he could remember of this reality until he glanced up and Wax was there, still and silent and just _there_ , not turning away, not ignoring the situation, everything Reece wanted and yet everything he was too scared to reclaim for fear it would be taken away from him again, for fear that Wax would wake up one morning and realize his partner was inhuman all over again.

Right back where they started.

Right back where Reece’s dead body was supposed to have lain.

He remembered the lightning then, the bolt that pierced his heart out of the blue, crippling his hands, _fire_ searing them to melted goo and only then he wilted until he was on his knees, the weight too much for the blacktop underneath him and caving in, crumbling like Reece’s heart stuttering and shrinking and collapsing, oxygen a luxury, clarity a forgotten concept. He was trapped inside his own body, trapped inside its breaking down, the skin on his wrists peeling back, his ribcage splintering, throat filling up with _blood_ and even then screaming out a word he could put no image to, a name for which he could find no connection to…

Life filtering back in, Reece released the cool leather and exhaled a breath that surprisingly wasn’t bloody. He turned away, ignoring Wax in favor of getting his head together. It was all too reasonable, justifiable enough that Wax _probably_ wouldn’t catch it. Then again, _everything_ was an effort for him lately and he was absolutely certain Wax was feeling some of that strain. It served him right for all the uncertainty and stress he had put Reece through initially, but wanting to punish Wax wasn’t exactly a _conscious_ decision.

Reece knew he didn’t belong in this world, knew nothing he or Wax could do would _ever_ change that, maybe make it easier, maybe provide a distraction or two, but Reece would have to learn to love it, not just endure it because faking it had gotten him into all sorts of trouble before.

Learn to love it or die.

“Anything?” Given Wax’s patient, only carefully imploring voice, Reece _knew_ it would be cruel to ignore him.

“Nothing concrete.” The images were clearer than they usually were, but it was better to keep his mouth shut until he had the time to work through them. He knew Wax wanted him to lay everything out on the table so that they could work it out _together,_ but Reece was still clinging to bad habits enough that he couldn’t just flick a switch and _be_ that person, that open, forgiving, completely rational person. So he lied. “Not yet, it’s all blurry and disjointed. I need time to process.”

He probably sounded like a machine: mundane, monotonous, _inhuman_.

Reece was _intimately_ aware Wax didn’t like his answer. He wanted transparency and it wasn’t like his own Wax hadn’t wanted the same thing, he just had other ways of getting to it, more devious methods to get under Reece’s skin, patiently digging until he started to crack. He didn’t outright push Reece until he exploded, no, he had clever ways of getting Reece exactly where he wanted him at precisely the right moment. For the first time Reece wondered whether his Wax had actually enjoyed the chase, saw Reece’s secrecy and shame as playing hard to get and played right along with him.

This Wax, as far as he could tell, _certainly_ wasn’t interested in playing games.

“Look, Reece, I just…”

“I _know_ you want me to be open with you,” he cut in, effectively silencing Wax. He could see his partner’s face heat up in shame and was honestly sorry he had put it there, but Wax would absolutely _not_ push him into a corner because _that_ was something he had no patience for. “But I need time, Wax. I’m not going to beg for it but I _am_ going to demand it. These aren’t memories, stories I can just recollect. These are _actual_ traumatic experiences that are _not_ my own, memories or things happening _right_ damn now that I don’t want to see or remember, let alone try to piece together. I’ve been struggling with this for most of my life and sometimes you’ve made it better, the you I used to know, and sometimes you’ve just made it worse. But this is something I _have_ to do alone, at least initially. I can’t have you breathing down my neck every time _you_ think I should share something with you.”

It might have sounded petty, cruel and unnecessary, but there were only so many ways of getting through to Wax.

Wax shifted angrily in his seat, unbuckling his seatbelt in an irritation that Reece sensed was _quickly_ boiling over. “Don’t you think it might be easier if you actually _talked?_ I mean, the first thing I wanted to do after the fact was to tell you everything, to get it out of my system so that I could fill my head with something else.”

It sounded perfectly reasonable; then again, it also sounded entirely _easy._

 _Nothing_ about the visions had been easy for Reece: not suffering through them, not willfully reliving them, not hating them so much he somehow threw everything he had separate from them _away,_ everything _good_ . He hated that after _one_ vision, Wax suddenly had an _opinion._ That after _one_ damn experience he thought he knew what was best for Reece, could _possibly_ understand, could dictate what needed to be done like he was Reece’s boss and not his _partner._

“Just because you had _one_ vision, Wax, it does _not_ make you a _fucking_ expert!”

It was like an explosion inside the trapped confines of their SUV. Reece was breathing hard from the exertion, from the pressure of trying to conform to someone else’s expectations, and Wax was so ashamed he couldn’t even _look_ at him, steely gaze trained on the dashboard instead. Though as much as Reece knew he was seething inside at the blatant rejection, he could also see the lines of defeat around Wax’s eyes and mouth, the gradual slumping of his shoulders, the way his hands almost came to cover his head. “Please tell me,” he pleaded so softly that Reece could hardly hear him. “Please tell me that this is just me, that this is just you being here. Please tell me that you opened up at _some_ point, that you weren’t just _alone_ in this.”

Reece opened his mouth to lie but swallowed it back down when he realized that Wax wasn’t angry and that he hadn’t punctured his pride. He was only concerned and distressed and if Reece punished that then _he_ would become the bad guy, the callous partner that would take but never give.

There had been times where he _had_ opened up to his Wax, in that other world he may never get back to, times where circumstance and necessity forced him to open up to truths he could scarcely admit to, but more often than not he kept his mouth shut and hid. His Wax probably knew how hard it was on him and that was why push rarely gave way to shove, but _this_ Wax _obviously_ didn’t give a damn.

“Never mind,” Wax broke through his internal monologue. “I’m sorry. I just can’t fathom how you… how you _felt_ like you had to be alone.”

And Reece knew it would never be given voice but he could also hear the unspoken: _I can’t fathom how you’re even a functioning human being at this point._

Reece thought about that for a second, trying to surmise how it made him feel before realizing that by this point he was just pretty much… numb. He opened the passenger-side door quicker than Wax could react and slipped outside, slamming it behind him but not out of any real anger. He started walking, not sure where he was going and honestly not caring.

He pretended that the sun glaring down at him was instead rain, spitting down on him softly, pressing through his clothes and soaking down into his heart because there was no way those rays should feel so cold and so unforgiving.

* * *

The iced latte dropped in front of him had his name on it but it wasn’t spelled right.

Reece took it and started drinking it even _before_ he realized it was most likely a peace offering. At least that was familiar. His Wax used to ply him with coffee and wine and scented shampoos and bath bombs _all_ the time, but right now was _so_ not the time to be impaling his heart with shards of bittersweet longing.

“I’m sorry.”

Reece put his head in his hands, though it was more from the sudden onslaught of ice cold coffee to his brain than any feelings he might be experiencing at this point in time. “You already said that,” he pointed out, head rising from its confines when the ice pricking at his brain settled down some.

Wax dropped into the chair beside him heavily. “Not really. Besides, it needed to be said again.”

Reece rolled the word over and over on his tongue. “Okay…”

“Look, Reece, there’s about a dozen things I could say to you, but I’m pretty sure any one of them would cancel out my apology pretty damn fast.” _And…?_ “But I will say that I _am_ here and I’ll be whatever you want me to be: your rock, a fucking ghost, someone who plies you with coffee every hour on the hour.” _That sounds pretty damn good…_ “But sooner or later this will _have_ to get sorted out. If we’re gonna hide something of this magnitude from the agency, then we’re not gonna be able to ignore it, we’re going to have to work together.” _But the whole ignoring it thing worked out so well for you before, when you didn’t have the visions, when you wanted to vilify me,_ Reece wanted to quip but didn’t.

He didn’t want to argue.

He didn’t want to be numb but he didn’t want to feel all these emotions either, ones that shifted unendingly into others on the opposite end of the spectrum, ones he couldn’t fully comprehend. He didn’t want to keep reaching for happiness, to keep waiting for the fall, but he _wanted_ to keep reaching for it too. He wanted to fall into Wax’s arms and wrap his entire self around the only thing he’d ever loved.

And the only person that had ever loved him _back_.

Deep down though closer to the surface than Reece wanted, he knew Wax wasn’t wrong. A large part of the problem was Reece never agreeing to open up in favor of shutting himself away, unstable and helpless, just because he _thought_ it was easier. Maybe the universe had punished him for that, or for something else, or for lots of different reasons.

This Wax, however, would not be giving in to his demands, regardless of his ‘I’ll be whoever you want me to be’ speech.

Reece exhaled shakily, his next inhale coming no easier. His hands were trembling as he sheltered his aching head again, fingernails digging into his scalp. “Would you object to me writing it down?” It was just something that had come to mind, something to _sate_ Wax for the time being so he didn’t need to be one-hundred percent present when all he wanted to do was sip his coffee and tell the world to fuck off for a while.

Writing was easier: he could erase words, alter them, scramble them until they made no sense and it wouldn’t matter, they would just be ramblings, as inane as he wanted to make them, as inane as the visions that fueled those words were. These words wouldn’t be sealed in stone, they wouldn’t be spoken aloud, forever hanging in the air, choking him every time he stood in this room, strangling him every moment Wax glanced at him. They would simply sit on paper, carefully encased, and whether they were words of fiction or words of a hurting, tormented mind, well, no one had to know.

“We’ve all gotta start somewhere, partner.”

This Wax was more understanding than he gave him credit for.

* * *

Wax would spend _hours_ pouring over Reece’s simultaneously carefully and carelessly constructed pages, letters written mostly to himself that helped Reece purge his mind more than he thought possible, easing the ache, the confusion, the encroaching bitter taste of uselessness.

If Reece could shed some of his skin _and_ get Wax off his back, he would keep putting pen to paper.

“Hey, Reece?”

“Hmm…?” He lifted his head only to find Wax glancing over at him apologetically, as if he was ashamed to start drilling him again so soon. Granted, it had been a day and a half of wonderful moments where Reece could _almost_ relax, though only so much with the inevitability of the agency someday finding those pages Wax practically kept in his pocket _and_ under his pillow.

Reece would have to remind Wax of that, to gauge how much of a risk he thought they should take by keeping them around as a reference instead of burning them. Maybe Reece could chalk it all up to delusional ramblings or the outline of some psychotic novel, but Wax had mentioned something about how the agency had had their psychics keep the strictest records of all. Reece suspected that their reports, which were probably kept locked up for safekeeping, would suspiciously read much like Reece’s strung together letters that only barely formed actual words.

“This part about the gold chain with that rose pendant… how come I’ve come across that before?”

Reece took the page, pouring over several paragraphs of it before he came to what Wax was talking about. It was striking enough to remember something so small, something that wasn’t covered in blood or tragedy or lost innocence. It was even more striking how quickly the significance, or rather, lack of it came to him. “It was in that pawn shop the other day….” So why would he mention it? It was clear it hadn’t come from a vision, since its description was clear and there were no other images on that page to tie into it, so why write down something as mundane as a simple description of a piece of jewelry that wasn’t tied to any past or encroaching loss of life?

Wax filled in the blanks. “That’s _right._ You convinced that girl not to buy it. Jesus Christ, did you… _legitimately_ save her life?” _As if all the lives I_ have _saved weren’t legitimate enough for you since they involved premonitions._ “Without even _intending_ to?” _Oh,_ that’s _what he meant, never mind then…_ “Hell, I was wondering why you were so adamant she not have it.”

Reece handed him back the page; his head hurt again. “Do you think I saw it in a vision I can’t remember and that’s why? Saw _her?”_

“It’s possible, right? And if that’s possible then there’s no telling exactly where these visions of yours end, not to mention how much they’re entwined in our daily lives.” An idea which wasn’t comforting in the slightest to Reece.

Still, maybe the visions were finally giving Reece the upper hand, enabling him to see things that would save their victims from ever becoming victims at all. Maybe there wouldn’t always have to be bloodshed or pain or trauma, for them or for Reece.

He still wasn’t getting his hopes up.

Reece pushed the computer away, the glare from a screen overflowing with years old headlines increasing the strain on his eyes. It had been a late night last night, writing into the very early hours of the morning, the moment he thought he was done and could put his head down the very moment a new detail sprang up and demanded to be recorded. Wax had snored on beside him, blissfully oblivious to Reece’s inner turmoil.

But it had helped, was still helping and that had to mean something, right?

* * *

“It’s a motherfucking miracle!” Wax exclaimed the next morning, causing Reece to sit up abruptly in bed.

He yawned widely and snatched the newspaper away from Wax. They still read newspapers from time to time, when their eyes started to glaze over from extended computer use as they often tended to do with how many hours they actually _researched_ before they got to do the actual hunting. As glamorous as their job might sound to outsiders, once you broke it all down, Reece figured that about eighty percent of their time and effort actually went into research, while the other twenty percent was where they could finally get physical and take out their frustrations on someone or _something_ that deserved it.

Wax usually was the only one to take advantage, since Reece didn’t tend to get his hands dirty or bloody unless he had to. He was just fine letting Wax do the talking for him and this Wax was no different: eager for violence, starving for retribution, relentless in his taunting for Reece to do the same even though he knew Reece wasn’t a violent person and no amount of witnessing it, more like living it almost _firsthand_ would change that. No switch could be flicked or morals burned enough at the edges to get him to cave and lose control.

He had enough on his plate without having to worry about pulling himself out of violence _he_ initiated, even if it was for good reason.

Wax didn’t have to narrate but he did anyway. “That pawn shop actually burnt down.”

 _It doesn’t mean anything,_ Reece reasoned. _Someone else could have bought that necklace. Someone else could be wearing it right now…_

_Or it could be melting, molten gold dripping all its promises into the dirt, its rose fading faster than it had taken to engrave in its polished metal surface. Except… gold wasn’t so easy to melt. A mere fire wouldn’t destroy it._

_Then again, why did it have to be destroyed in the first place? It wasn’t like it was possessed or anything, right?_ Reece hadn’t dealt with anything quite like that before, so why did it sound plausible, why had he spoken up about a piece of jewelry? There was a first for everything though and there had to be a reason for that fire.

“Reece, hey, your head out of the gutter yet?” He jerked out of his subconscious just in time for Wax to take the paper back. “Bask in your own self-glory for a little while, huh? You most likely prevented something from happening: a kidnapping, a murder, a motherfucking possession, _something_. Who the hell cares what but my god, it doesn’t get much better than that.”

He filtered the rest of it out, not needing Wax to pat him on the back for really doing nothing at all, let alone getting encouragement that he should be congratulating himself. While these visions might have given Wax an ego boost when the universe had seen fit to bestow them upon him as some sick type of _reward,_ Reece had very rarely felt more than a healthy dose of pride, let alone rampant narcissism. He had somewhat echoed Wax’s satisfaction in fulfilling a higher purpose, but it was difficult not to curse said higher power when it had made most of the last few years of Reece’s life a living, thriving, taunting _hell._

Wax continued on, oblivious to Reece’s inner monologue and he would likely be disinterested if Reece gave it voice anyway. “Arson, my ass. My guess is that it was an accidental fire inflicted by mother nature herself, or whatever the hell gives you your visions. Sometimes, the universe _does_ work for us, I guess.

And if the agency ever found out that they answered to a higher calling than them…

Reece brushed that pesky thought aside and reflected back on the necklace. None of it _felt_ right. Wax may chuck perception out the window in favor of gut instincts and experience, but Reece could put both critical thinking _and_ instinct to good use. “This isn’t _right_ , Wax. The melting point of pure gold is just under two-thousand degrees Fahrenheit.”

 _This_ Wax, unfortunately, didn’t view his _nerding out_ as a turn on. Reece supposed time would only tell. “What the _hell_ does that have to do with anything? You’re rambling again, Reece.”

And Reece fumed, impatient at his partner’s brash carelessness. “It _means_ that if that pawn shop burned because that necklace was meant to be destroyed, it _wasn’t._ The average fire generates anywhere between twelve-hundred and seventeen-hundred degrees Fahrenheit, so unless that necklace was anything less than pure gold, it didn’t burn.”

Wax huffed instead of admitting the solid reasoning in that. _Typical._ “There’s always _something_ , isn’t there?”

* * *

 _Reece was right_ , Wax pondered with fascination as he pulled out a familiar gold chain from the rubble the building had been subjected to. He slipped it gingerly into his pocket, intent on finding some way to destroy it later if necessary. Reece would probably know; it was becoming all too clear to Wax how little he himself _didn’t_ know.

He turned, watching Reece for a few minutes as he inspected the area near the crime scene tape, using a penknife rather than Wax’s crude method of putting his own hands to good use. Wax tried to imagine another person in his place, maybe older, maybe younger, it didn’t much matter. Then he tried to imagine no one there, no partner to have his back but also no partner asking him to accept his demons and lie and just roll with everything thrown at him without question or protest.

But he did _love_ Reece, even this Reece, even this distraught, exhausted, emotional shell of a person.

It was still his Reece deep down, Reece with doubts and insecurities and enough emotional trauma to drown even the sanest person, sure, but there was no doubt in Wax’s mind that if he worked hard enough and wanted it bad enough, he _could_ get his Reece back, peeling back layer after layer of poisonous skin and toxic judgments only to have him revealed.

It was _worth_ fighting for.

* * *

Destroying the necklace was a _long,_ ridiculously convoluted process that Reece managed just enough energy to go through with and _then_ somehow jot down in his now heavily scribbled in notebook. Wax helped him in every step without Reece even having to ask him to, supportive and careful and never questioning. He had become the rock he said he would be, but more than that he had somehow become Reece’s partner over the course of that day, enough so that Reece couldn’t ignore it or doubt it or even wish it away.

It was like the two of them again: deciphering the visions, taking on all that the other couldn’t, working together so seamlessly it was no trouble or effort at all. The two of them against the world.

Granted, now it was the two of them against the world _and_ against the agency, but to Reece it finally felt like he had gotten Wax back.

Even more so when it was all said and done with, Wax all over him physically and emotionally like he had suddenly remembered Reece was _here_ , tired and suffering and abused by the world and just waiting, so numb from waiting but waiting regardless for Wax to look at him and understand, understand without Reece forcing or coaxing him to.

Understand that Reece couldn’t be any more or any less than what he was.

Wax pulled up a chair and sat down in front of Reece, taking his hands in his own, thumbs circling his wrists and rubbing calming circles into his palms. Reece exhaled, gaze flicking up reluctantly to meet his partner’s. They didn’t share the same memories because they didn’t come from the same world, which meant they didn’t have the same experiences or the same values, but they still knew each other more intimately than most people ever would. This was still a version of Wax, just like he was a version of the Reece this Wax had known.

This knowledge was all too apparent in Wax’s eyes: a fear shone there of not knowing what to say, of going too far, but it seemed to matter little once Wax moved closer, taking Reece’s hands and pressing them to his mouth, peppering them with intimate kisses.

Reece and his own Wax had slept together once, maybe twice, had fumbled around in the dark and could blame it on foolishness and intoxication, but they had never reached this degree of intimacy. Reece was to blame for most of that. He would admit now to not feeling worthy enough, not emotionally stable enough, far from pure and less than good. He had screwed it all up, really, with his greed and his endless desperation and it was no wonder the universe had seen fit to screw him over in return.

But if he had his Wax back he liked to think there was nothing he _wouldn’t_ do.

He wondered now where his Wax was, whether he was happier with this world’s Reece if he had gotten him, whether he was more satisfied with the far less emotional baggage that came with a vision-less partner.

Unless that world was only a dream or unless he was dreaming now, yet Reece was already slipping on his sanity enough; in fact, _long_ before this point to accept that. If he wasn’t remotely sane then he had nothing. If he couldn’t believe that he had been planted in this world for some reason still unknown to him, unless there wasn’t a reason and it was all to punish him for daring the visions away, then reality was illusion and up was down and live was actually dead.

“Something eatin’ away at ya? Something you maybe can’t write down?”

Reece jumped, startled out of his head, but then he calmed at his partner’s open, patient expression, the fire in his eyes cooler than he had expected. At least this Wax was _trying_ to be gentle with him. “That girl and the necklace, I mean, how… how could I have known? I don’t remember anything like it in any of my visions.”

Wax left his hands alone but still clutched them tightly in his lap. “Then what do you remember? What prompted you to persuade her not to buy it?”

“I just… I just remember this _feeling,_ like this _really_ bad feeling.” He could hear how childish he sounded but by the intensely curious look on Wax’s face, it didn’t seem to register, a fact which gave him strength. “I just felt that if she walked out with that necklace, her life would never be the same. I mean… I didn’t even think _twice_ Wax.”

It took a long moment until Wax blinked and glanced up at him again, until he smiled assuredly at Reece and stopped petting his hands absentmindedly. Reece took them back, not that he minded all that much. Compared to the weeks before, it was _nice_ for Wax to not cringe away from him, for Wax to actually _want_ to touch him and be affectionate with him. “This is what I mean when I say opening up, Reece. I don’t mean an hour long conversation. Just bits and pieces, here and there. I may not be able to offer anything concrete but…,” he grinned, “two heads are better than one.”

And Reece, despite that stupid, overused saying and Wax’s completely out-of-place grin, _actually_ relaxed. “I _know._ But it’s _draining_ , Wax. You have no idea how hard it is to make sense of it all sometimes.”

“It’ll take time but you’ll feel lighter. You’ll hurt _less._ I swear to you, you will.”

Reece huffed, though his arms eagerly slid around Wax’s neck when he pressed closer, craving the connection more than any words he could speak, desiring the physical closeness more than any amount of rest or detachment.

“Wanna go lay down?” Wax offered, quicker than Reece could ask and it was odd that Reece would pick this moment, when he was unsure how he fit into this world, to feel realer than any other moment he had shared with this Wax but here it was. He nodded gratefully, though groaned at the thought of walking all the way to the bedroom. Instead, Wax half-dragged him until he was all but sprawled out on the bed, _their_ bed, the one Wax had only recently agreed to share again. Wax waited for him to settle back against the pillows before crawling in beside him, his warmth creeping up along Reece like a blanket.

There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things this Wax didn’t know about him, so many apologies because he held a share of the blame too but Reece was _scared,_ terrified of so many things but mostly, he was uneasy though not entirely surprised, he was scared of losing Wax all over again.

“You know how proud I am of you, right?”

Reece stopped trembling, hadn’t even realized he started. He stopped picking at his fingers, just for a _moment._ “Yeah?” He asked, cracked and soft before clearing his throat.

“Hell yeah,” Wax affirmed, voice raised so there was no mistaking it. “I don’t know if my own Reece could have handled all that. I know for sure _I_ couldn’t have. You’re the strongest person I know.”

And Reece nodded, throat closing up, cuticles raw and bleeding in one corner, tasting _bitter_ when he brought the finger to his mouth to suck on it gently. A string of saliva connected his mouth with the still bleeding finger when he pulled it away, unbroken until Wax took his hand and tucked it behind his back, trapping it in the heat of his partner’s body.

He didn’t feel so strong or so steady or even properly equipped to deal with this _one_ moment.

“Talk to me,” Wax urged, pressing demanding fingers into Reece’s back, working out the knots there though also trying to carve Reece open enough to spill all his secrets and all his truths and mostly, all his _fears._ Reece inhaled a gulping breath and one of Wax’s hands weaved through his own, the other still trapped, tingling in disuse, and he squeezed it in further, albeit _gentle_ coaxing.

Self-conscious and trapped and _overflowing_ , Reece split open at the seams Wax had plucked away, one by one, with his strong and sure fingers and his honest and determined gaze. “I don’t want to lose you again,” he admitted, voice heavy with regret and guilt and self-loathing. He swallowed, taking several moments to collect himself enough to continue. All the while, Wax had eased the tension in his back enough to collect the tears streaming from Reece’s eyes with the pads of his fingers. “I don’t want this all to be too much for you, I don’t want you to leave…”

Wax shook his head vehemently, hands gripping Reece’s shoulders and rubbing up and down, warming chilled skin, quieting his turmoil. “I _promise_ you I _won’t_ leave. No matter what happens, I’ll fight tooth and nail to get back to you. I’ll kill dozens, _hundreds,_ I’ll crawl through glass and scale mountains and walk through fire and I’ll even tear down the entire goddamn _agency_ to get to you if it comes to that. I _promise._ ”

It was ridiculous, hearing all that, drawing reassurance from Wax’s exaggerated promises, but there was also nothing more uniquely _Wax_ , nothing that could sound closer to the truth, nothing that could draw Reece in and quiet his screaming heart and lock them together so that they could never part again.

What had _happened_ to this Wax to turn his mind? To say to _hell_ with the agency in favor of him? What did he see that Reece didn’t when he looked in the mirror? What could he _possibly_ have to hope for?

Hiccuping sobs burst through his throat, embarrassing and raw, realer than Reece wanted to feel, but Wax wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, so tight against his chest that Reece could scarcely breathe and hardly cared anyway. He tried to quiet his crying, tried to make himself see reason, but his overtaxed emotions crescendoed before they quieted down to a lull. When he pressed his face into Wax’s neck, damp and _aching_ and trembling but all the months and months of fear and sadness and resentment and unbearable _loss_ having been wrung out of him, he had a fleeting thought that this was what Wax had wanted, for Reece to cry like a _child_ against him until there was nothing left in him.

It would have made Reece angry before, Wax manipulating him in this way, but he felt so sure that somehow things might _actually_ be okay.

“You good now, huh?” Wax breathed in his ear, though in the way that he didn’t expect an answer. He eased Reece’s head down onto a pillow even though his chest had been a perfect substitute, turning him gently onto his side so he could spoon up behind him, featherlight fingers carding through Reece’s hair as if intent to ease him into sleep and Reece was close, closer than he’d been in days. “This is more my fault then it is yours,” Wax spoke, once more manipulative, forcing Reece to agree when he was too exhausted to protest, only capable of emitting a low hum. Wax, however, still got his meaning. “No, it is. I pushed you away because I thought I didn’t recognize you. I thought my partner came second to my duty. I thought these visions couldn’t _possibly_ do us, do the _world_ any good. I pushed you into this but I’ll get better. We’ll do better, _together._ ”

Reece didn’t care about any of that right now; he just wanted Wax to keep holding him, to keep showing Reece how much he _did_ love him.

Mostly, he just wanted to _sleep._

“The world’s better and _brighter_ with you in it, James Reece. I know that now. I know how much better and brighter you make _me_ too.” And Reece realized that coming from Wax, there was no better compliment.

They’d face the world on their own terms as best they could, and maybe they’d be screwed over and get torn down and maybe they wouldn’t come back up again, but at least they’d be together.

Reece, after all, was the furthest thing from alone.

**FIN**


End file.
